My travel day from Mexico was something of a clusterfuck. The morning had started nice – M (my Canadian) and Kitty and I had coffee and snuggles and played a little and talked and it was, truly, a lovely goodbye, if one can say that about saying goodbye to people you know you won’t see for probably another year. (I hope it’s not that long, but you never know.)
But it quickly went downhill from there.
The plan was to take Kitty to the ferry to go on her own little adventure to Cozumel before taking me to get Covid tested and then to lunch, and then to the airport for the start of my 10-hour travel day. But we dawdled too long (none of us wanted to actually start the goodbye process, I think) at the apartment and K ended up literally having to run to catch the ferry. M and I knew where the ferryport was from the drop-off point, and pointed it out to her, watching as she hurried away from us. But as she disappeared into the crowd, I suddenly asked M to pull over so I could run after her to make sure she made it on. I ran all the way down to the port, looking for her, but finally had to give up, hoping I hadn’t seen her because she had got on okay. We did tell her to message us as soon as she was aboard, which, five minutes after I got back to the car, she did. Mission accomplished – but that sense of anxiety was to stay with me the rest of the day and night.
It started with an overweight bag at the airport, and the super-friendly-trying-to-be-helpful ticketing agent insisting I “just repack” some of my checked bag into my carry-on (10 lbs worth) to save me the $100 overweight fee. Right there at the check-in counter, with hundreds of people in line behind me. In a mask, my glasses fogging, and already feeling the anxiety from the morning and from having to rush around to find a Covid-testing station. And from knowing that when I opened my bag it might not rezip (the zipper had been off the track that morning and had taken 20 minutes to get sorted out) and that I had BDSM implements and sex toys in my bag that very easily could fall out. Right there in front of hundreds of people. I was more than willing to just pay the $100 – she was more than willing, insistent even, to help me save the fee. I capitulated and reorganized, amazingly not dumping whips and canes and a Hitachi on the floor, and managing to rezip the damn thing. (The airport personnel were not as lucky, I don’t think, as when I got my bag back in StL it had been thoroughly rifled through – but at least they didn’t confiscate anything, as they had in Cuba – I lost a Hitachi there.)
Anyway. The rest of the day was a jumble of not being able to charge my phone in the airport or on the plane, having to go through customs, retrieve my bag and recheck it as well as go through the TSA lines in Miami again, and then traverse the entire Miami Dade airport, lugging my now-20 lb carryon bag on my shoulder. All this cost me so much time I almost missed my connecting flight, even though I had a two-hour window between one and the other, and had planned to get a bite to eat in that window. As it was, all I had to eat all day was a bag of M&M’s and some pretzels on the plane. I was harried, exhausted, stressed out and starving by the time Adam picked me up in St. Louis at ten o’clock that night, and so so sick of my mask, that had been on since arriving at the airport that morning.
And, hanging over my head this whole time was the certainty that I was going to have to tell Q, my Sir, that things with him were just not working for me.
As it was, he was the one that brought it up in a phone call a couple of days later. It was amicable enough. There just wasn’t the spark between us that there had been early on. I’m guessing that the spark flickered out because I set off on my Mexico travels too early in the “bonding” phase of things, and he didn’t know how to create and maintain a long-distance connection. But that was valuable information to learn sooner than later, as any partner of mine does need to have that skillset – and desire. If I can travel, I will. Often spur-of-the-moment, and often with – or to – someone, but on my own as well. Working remotely has given me the ability to do that, and now that I have the bit in my teeth, I can see it happening again. Maybe not for three weeks, and maybe not to Mexico…but. It’s a possibility. I had thought – hoped – that he would be a lovely kinky hiking partner, and that we’d have three or four day weekends hiking, playing and cabin-ing, but during my trip I had come to realize that it probably wasn’t going to be. Still, I held out hope, until that last travel day, when he was too busy to text or call me for even ten minutes all that long, torturous day, when I was having a mini-meltdown and needed a strong, calming presence – preferably my dominant’s – to help anchor me. I realized in that moment he had already checked out of the relationship, and probably had weeks before. I had known it, felt it in my gut, but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it.
That’s one lesson I hope to have learned from this experience – trust my gut. My instincts had said he was just going through the motions a lot earlier, but I held on, hoping that when I got back, we’d put things to rights, and that it had just been the distance between us that had stalled things. After all, I was still really invested in the daily habits and tasks he had me do, even if none of them were sexy fun. I like having a Dominant. I crave it, really, and love being a submissive. I like having tasks, being told what to do, accomplishing the things I have been tasked with. Obeying, and feeling that I have pleased my Top. I hoped that once we had time together again, the sexy part of things would be there as well. But I think I knew, even before I left, that his heart wasn’t in it the way mine was. Not “heart” as in love, but as in the desire to form a strong, sexual D/s bond. And if I had been honest with myself – if I had listened to my gut – I would have admitted a lot earlier that I wasn’t feeling that pull to him, either. I do think he will make a good dominant to someone – just not to me. I need obedience, but I also need heat, and it just wasn’t there for us.
A truly heartfelt posting that no doubt was very difficult to write and share with others. Perhaps the sharing will help you with the healing process. Maybe this didn’t work out for you but no doubt you will try again. There is so much you have to offer. Somewhere there is a Dominant who wants and needs you as much as you will want and need him